


Two.

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, I'm awful at tagging, I'm so bad at writing, M/M, Vague HRE!Germany??, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Memories of a certain boy from Italy's childhood trouble him for years, but his boyfriend Germany is always there to hold him and keep him safe.





	Two.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I wrote my first fucking Hetalia fanfiction in 2017.

This wasn't the first (nor will it be the last, he knew for sure) time Germany has seen Italy in a state like this. The other's face pressed into his chest, gripping onto the thin layer of clothing that still remained on Germany's torso, as he would sob and choke on his tears over the heartache that he suffers through every single day, for far too many years. He could easily put a mask over it in public, after all, who'd want that negative energy to spread to everyone on the streets, or anywhere else? Italy found it easier to remove the mask when he was in the comfort of Germany's arms at night. The bed didn't feel there anymore. The walls, the floors, and earth itself wasn't there. It was just the two. But not the original two that was meant to be. He loved Germany, yes. He loved him so much, he'd give almost anything for him. If it really came down to it, he'd fight for Germany, despite not being one to enjoy fighting. He comes to realize things things like this on nights where the thoughts of the one who he has been waiting patiently for do not torment him so badly. Sometimes he doesn't know if he loves Germany, or the resemblance he has to his lost love. The blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and the intimidating aura. He even had the expressions down. Sometimes it pains him more, just like right now. His sobbing has become more heavy, and his state has rendered him speechless. The only thing keeping him sane is the other's fingers running through his hair and his warm presence. Words were not as comforting as the actions, and Italy was glad that Germany understood that much. The others would only lend pitiful words in attempt to console him when he was sad for any reason, but it did not do anything. 

Germany didn't lend words of those likes. He resorted to leaving all the talking to Italy and just be there, which was much appreciated during these times. Thinking was a lot easier that way. Italy has found it easier to think about it than hold it in, as holding it in just caused him to explode at some point, and he has exploded. In front of Germany. He was acting out of place during training, avoiding looking at Germany and rarely responding. When he responded, it wasn't as energetic as the normal, often irrelevant statement or incorrect answer (usually what he was told NOT to do), instead replaced with something along the likes of a monotone "yes, sir" and the male wearing an expression saying that he was far away from what was happening at the present moment. It took a few times for Germany to gather up any courage to actually mention Italy's strange behavior (he knew it had to be something with emotions attached, and if he was honest with himself, he was not very good with those. They were rather overwhelming), only to find out one thing about his partner that not many know, something that understandably troubled him. The often serious nation immediately pushed all thoughts of training from his mind, only to be filled with the desire to comfort his boyfriend. 

No matter how many years, Italy waits. Ever since the day Holy Roman Empire vanished from his life, he was waiting for him to come home desperately. Many of those in his life that early told him to forget about it, war was cruel and most likely his love would not return. He was reminded constantly that such early nations were not bound to find love, or rather nations were not to feel “love” like humans at all. “Perhaps it’s just infatuation…” He had enough of that. For so long Italy had wanted nothing but to hold the other’s hand, to hold him tight in his arms, to love him more than anyone else ever could, and he knew he would if he had the chance. He wanted it to be just them, the two of them. Although he openly denied that the other had died, he was actually started to become convinced as he got older. It felt like hell. Italy was stuck in this cycle of wanting to believe in something that was obviously so wrong in everyone else's eyes. It never really stopped him from waiting, crying and hoping for Holy Roman Empire to come home to him even so. His longing would not be stopped, until Germany had stepped in. Although it did not really stop, it became less painful. His heart could not be healed or restored, but pieced and held together. 

The situation had started to become clear to Italy. His fingers let go of Germany, and snaked around his chest instead. He mumbled an apology once he got his last sobs out. In that second, Germany pulled the other up and pressed their lips together, not minding Italy’s face being damp from tears in the slightest. The smaller nation’s chest swelled as they pulled away from each other and pressed their foreheads together, staring into the orbs before them. This time was different than the many times they kissed, was different than anytime he’s ever looked Germany in his eyes. Something about those cool eyes told him this time that who he has been waiting for was home now, he didn't have to wait anymore. He was blind the entire time. It was them, just the two of them.


End file.
